


The Reception

by ThrillerTheKiller



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Best Friends, Cheating, Closeted Character, Denial of Feelings, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Kissing, Everyone gets the short end of the stick, Forbidden Love, Henry is oblivious to his feelings until it's too late, Homophobia, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Infidelity, Linda might be a bitch but she doesn't deserve to be abandoned, Lost Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Marriage, Marriage Without Love, Oblivious Henry, Possibly Unrequited Love, Queerplatonic Relationships, Religious Guilt, Sexuality Crisis, Sloppy Makeouts, Two Shot, especially Joey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 10:52:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14211573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThrillerTheKiller/pseuds/ThrillerTheKiller
Summary: Great news! Henry is getting married to none other than Linda after their brief engagement. He's anxious before the ceremony, of course, but at least he has his best man, Joey, to comfort him.Well, he would, if Joey wasn't dealing with his own problems. Struggling to come to terms with the fact that his life-long best friend would no longer be able to make time for him after his marriage, Joey resolves to internalize his feelings and let Henry be with the girl who makes him happy.But Henry isn't happy.And Joey may have had too much to drink before his speech.





	The Reception

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, hey, hey, I'm TK and here today for my very first Joey/Henry fic, yay! Well, my first PUBLISHED HenJoe fic, um... *casually pushes random gay Google docs underneath carpet*
> 
> So, this is going off the belief that Linda is Henry's wife.
> 
> And that just won't do.
> 
> See, there's sorta kinda the issue of Joey being in love with Henry, and it's canon, so...
> 
> Alright, it's not canon, but I love this ship to pieces nonetheless. And I also love writing awful things, whether it's angst or feels or whatever, so this exists! This is a thing now!
> 
> And Tygeer
> 
> If you're reading this
> 
> I blame you for tagging me in a retweet with that stupid Tumblr prompt.
> 
> Yeah.
> 
> I got inspired by a Tumblr prompt.
> 
> Anyway, I love this ship so much, I hope this twoshot is decent, enjoy!

“Is my suit on right?”

 

“No, Henry, it's on backwards; of course it's on right do you not have eyes?”

 

“Alright, you don't have to be mean about it, but what about my hair--”

 

“First of all, you barely have any hair, second of all, it's so thin and short I’d like to see you try to make a mess of it.”

 

“Well, I'm sorry we all can't have your thick mop, at least I can afford haircuts.”

 

Weddings were a stressful time. Especially if you, like Henry, were the groom. After months of careful planning and mental preparation, the big day had come, and despite all of his repetitive promises to Linda that he wouldn't completely lose it, Henry was completely losing it. Joey wasn't helping very much either with the way he had been snapping at everyone who so much as looked at him and clinging onto Henry's side the entire day, even now, alone in a musty church corridor. Nonetheless, Joey Drew had been the only voice of reason (which was saying quite a lot, considering how erratic he was even on the best of days).

 

Maybe that was why Henry made him his best man.

 

Finally meeting Henry's gaze, Joey looked up from where his hands were obsessively patting down the dark fabric over Henry's broad chest. A shudder involuntarily rippled through Henry at the ice-blue stare piercing his own amber-gold one. “I at least shaved…”

 

“Yeah, but only because I forced you to,” replied Henry, envisioning the usual bad morning shadow Joey had and suppressing the urge to pet the fluffy, jet-black mop he had been referring to. “You still look like a sheep. Sheep fluff.”

 

“It's not fluff,” Joey hissed furiously and jerked away from Henry as if his remark had scalded him, bringing a self-conscious, thin hand up to his thick hair. “At least I don't have a spiky thornbush like you do.”

 

“Alright, it's not fluff,” said Henry soothingly, continuing to resist the urge to run his fingers through the glossy jet-black wool. “I don't know why you're so angry. It's my wedding, I'm supposed to be the one on edge."

 

A brief, ugly look passed over Joey's gaunt features at the reminder of Henry getting married, married to a girl, but his friend didn't notice any change and squinted at him imploringly. “But in all seriousness, you have been a bit, well, worse than usual, so if there's anything…”

 

“There's nothing,” said Joey coolly, though he refused to meet Henry's gaze and returned to anxiously ruffling the front of his coal-colored suit.

 

“You're being clingy.”

 

“I am not.”

 

“Then if you could stop wrinkling my clothes and actually talk to me--”

 

“No,” insisted Joey annoyedly. “I'm fine.”

 

“Are you worried about walking down the aisle? The order of it, I mean? You and I are going together, right after Linda's mother. Then Sammy and the other groomsmen. Wally, Norman, Shawn…”

 

A mechanical tone smothered all other emotions in Joey’s clipped voice. “I know that.”

 

“Is it the speech, then? You don't have to do it. You don't have to come to the reception at all, if you don't want to. I know you don't like being around a lot of people.”

 

“I don't like being around anyone,” grumbled Joey, shuffling awkwardly, cold eyes trained on his gangly legs, and a thick strand of raven hair shielding Henry from view.

 

“Not even me?”

 

At this, Joey finally tore his gaze away from the floor and glanced up at Henry with almost innocently rounded eyes. A bright, glittering shade of amused dark gold met him, and Joey found that he was unable to look away, shrinking underneath the other man’s scrutiny (despite the fact that Joey was taller than Henry). His voice came out a breathless squeak when he said, “No, I like you. But just you.”

 

Henry, unaware of the way Joey's stomach lurched with a single look at him, smiled his heart-melting, sweet smile and said, “I guess that's better than nothing.”

 

Yes, considering it's everything to me, thought Joey but didn't dare speak aloud. Instead, he bristled to hide his affection and spat, “How long have we been waiting around? The sooner this is over, the sooner I can go back to the studio. You're lucky I even closed it. I would've left it open if everyone wasn't at this stupid ceremony.”

 

Surprisingly enough, Henry didn't scold Joey for calling his marriage stupid and said patiently, “I would've made you close it, though. Anyway, by the time this is over, it'll be after midnight.  You can't go there at midnight.”

 

“I do what I want,” said Joey snootily. “I can wrinkle your clothes. I can skip your reception. I can go to the studio instead. I can do anything if I want to.” A familiar azure flame blazed in his gleaming, frosty eyes with this final assertion, and Joey splayed his long fingers over Henry as he pressed himself against him.

 

Raising a single eyebrow but not pushing the suddenly fervent man away, Henry replied mildly, “So I've heard.”

 

Only now realizing exactly how far he was leaning into Henry, the light in his optics died, and Joey took a hesitant step back and casually cleared his throat to conceal the light pink dusting his pale, hollowed cheeks. Henry was once again unaware of his friend's discomfort and gingerly slapped his dainty hand away before it could tug at the front of his suit again.

 

"You're making me anxious," he complained, watching Joey's icy gaze flit nervously around the room, everywhere but Henry's handsome face. "C'mon, I'm already nervous about this, and you don't see me petting your hair like a freak."

 

"Only because I'd rip off your arm," snarled Joey, his temper and the fire in his eyes flaring again as his spindly fingers wrapped around his own wrist with nothing better to do.

 

"Please do. That would really complete the look."

 

For all of his lighthearted words, Joey really could tell his antics were bothering Henry and sighed, narrow face sagging. He grudgingly set aside his inner turmoil, which mainly consisted of jealousy and a sickening sense of loss, and went back to smoothing down his friend’s suit without ruffling it.

 

“You look fine,” said Joey dryly in false, crisp indifference. “You always look good. You didn’t even have to get ready besides throwing this dumb outfit on, alright, you’re fine, you’re better than fine.” He paused, then added in a choked voice, “And I’m sure Linda agrees.”

 

Joey had never approved of any girlfriend of Henry's, for obvious reasons. Usually, he never had anything to worry about when it came to them: Henry always seemed disinterested in whatever girl he picked up and let them go in less than a month. But this business with Linda... It was something different. Not different as in Henry being enamored with her, not at all; whenever Joey saw them together he never recognized any romantic love in the way Henry treated Linda (vice versa, however, was quite the opposite). The difference here was exactly how far Henry took things. Why, when he obviously felt nothing for Linda aside from a kind of sibling-like attachment, did he propose in the first place? Perhaps he was sick of becoming more and more dissatisfied with every girlfriend and thought this was the answer. Maybe watching all the people around his age getting married pressured him into it. Or, he really did love Linda, and Joey was seeing things as he wanted to through his warped perspective.

 

With every girlfriend, Joey never expected one to stay. Every passing relationship, Joey hoped that before another female entered the revolving door leading into Henry's life, Henry would look around behind him and realize Joey had been there all along.

 

But he didn't.

 

And it broke Joey's heart.

 

A hand came to rest on top of his downy hair, and Joey froze, suddenly tense at the brief touch. He suspiciously met Henry’s molten amber gaze, wondering if the kindness in their depths was sincere.

 

Washing away his friend's doubts, Henry softly replied to his gruff compliments, “Thanks, Joe.”

 

The frantic fluttering in Joey's stomach kept him from immediately smacking Henry's firm hand away, but he eventually shrugged it off, dismissing the idiotic idea of him running his own dainty hands through Henry's short, reddish-brown strands. Joey took in a shaky breath of dusty church air and said, "No problem. But if we have to wait any longer, then I'm serious," Joey paused, then, in an attempt to ease both his and Henry's tension, imitated Wally's nasal, accented tone, "I'm outta here!"

 

A heartfelt laugh from Henry made it all worth it. "See, that's more like yourself!" said Henry in between chuckles. "I dunno why you're the one acting weird or clingy, but just be yourself. At least, the way you are with me. Everyone else thinks you're an asshole."

 

"I am. Specifically, an asshole with a dream."

 

"There you go. By the way, you can stop whining, it's almost time, Linda's mother should've arrived by now. We should go find everyone else. But thanks for the crappy pep talk."

 

Joey ignored the tease and allowed Henry to drag him out to the front of the church, where everyone awaited them. Stained glass windows flitted at their sides as they passed through the halls. The late afternoon sunlight filtering through them cast a rainbow glow across Joey's narrow face and he squinted, then looked away. His almost colorless gaze then caught sight of Henry. The man wasn't looking at him with his own golden eyes, but Joey's heart still leaped into his throat. Henry looked much, much better bathed in the rainbow than Joey did, and all Joey could wonder was how much better it would feel if his wrist was pinned over his head instead of at his side. Then guilt consumed him. The best man was not allowed to fantasize about the groom.

 

Before he could really struggle with his conflicting feelings, the duo burst outside into the afternoon air. With another thank you and offhanded goodbye, Henry broke away from Joey, who had been internally asking himself if he should thread his fingers through Henry's. His hasty departure only sent another pang through Joey's heart. He decided his idea would have been stupid anyway and slumped over to where the groomsmen were clustered.

 

Sammy, as always, was complaining loudly, and Joey bristled at the sound even though he too had been annoyed. A screaming match always made him feel better, but Joey figured Henry would appreciate his temper tantrum just as much as he appreciated his wrinkled suit. So Joey remained silent like he had all these years and soaked in the sickening scent of the bridesmaids' bouquets.

 

His insides prickled as his ice-blue eyes followed Henry greeting Linda's parents (his own parents were unable to come since they lived halfway across the country and were never the richest of folks). The sensation wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn't warm and fuzzy, either. It lingered with him during the entire hazy charade, blocking out the chatter of Thomas scolding Shawn for picking strings out of his suit sleeve or Grant wondering aloud how much an intricate ceremony like this costs. Then the tingles exploded when Henry found his way back to his best man's side, just as the procession began.

 

"The groom doesn't traditionally walk with the best man," said Joey offhandedly, narrowing his cold eyes against the dying sun as he watched Linda's mother enter the church to ignore how Henry's strong arm brushed against his own twiggy limb.

 

"I know," answered Henry, unconcerned. "But you're not just my best man, you're my best friend. I want you to be with me. Is that so much of a problem?"

 

Joey turned his head to meet Henry's level stare. The lighting made his optics glow an unnatural, vibrant orange, and his hair looked like it was spun from copper.

 

Thornbush, he thought while gazing at it, and the corner of his lip twitched.

 

"Alright," Joey finally said, then took a jab at humor again with his next cheeky remark. "Wanna hold hands?"

 

"Definitely," said Henry sarcastically in fake exasperation, though he was unable to hide his own amusement and a smile played at his mouth. "Let's go."

 

Joey wasn't sure if he wanted him to be sarcastic or not. He had no time to decide, however; the two once again reentered the church, this time straight down the aisle. The colorful glow of the stained glass windows wasn't as vibrant as earlier, yet Joey still had to keep his chest from bursting whenever he looked at the effect it left on Henry. The groom walked a few paces ahead of him, back straight, with none of the stress he had shown earlier. A million gazes rested upon the duo on their journey down the aisle. Joey briefly closed his eyes to tame his nausea, then reopened them, telling himself to imagine it was his wedding. The couple getting married didn't traditionally walk together, but two men getting married wasn't traditional, either. It was unheard of. It was wrong in every way, shape, and form, but Joey couldn't help himself. This should be, this is their wedding, he deluded himself, staring intensely at the back of Henry's head to the point of drilling holes in it. The walk seemed to take a lifetime. A lifetime, with the end being death; more specifically, the death of Joey's poor little heart, which couldn't take much more of this agony.

 

It was a sin just for Joey to tread here, in the homophobic heart of God.

 

But in Joey's perfect world, where he stood at Henry's side, holding his hand, there was no such thing as homophobia. No one would constantly preach to him that what he was was wrong every Sunday, he wouldn't have to accept such a punishment for his sexuality and beg a higher power for forgiveness, he would have never been afraid to confess in the first place and perhaps this whole mess would have never happened.

 

And, as he took his place after the mile-long walk, watching the rest of the procession without Henry to ease his misery, a bubbling hatred filled Joey to the brim, a sense of entitlement, even. Hatred for everyone who didn't understand, all the smiling faces watching from the booths; hatred for himself, his sniveling, cowardly self who did nothing to act upon his feelings, to prevent this, who allowed himself to be emotionally abused in silence for practically his entire lifetime, the time he had known Henry for. Entitlement because Henry was his. Joey was his best friend, Joey taught him how to animate, Joey started a business with him, and in his ideal alternate universe, Joey was the one who would be wed to Henry.

 

There was no such thing as a girl named Linda, with the pretty, bobbed, dirty-blonde hair and D-cup whore tits that Henry didn't even seem to be interested in. Even when she came floating down the aisle with her father, Henry showed none of the awe the audience did, none of the infatuation, none of the love. It was like he was just watching a mildly entertaining television program. In fact, the only other person who had this same reaction was Joey himself, yet even he had to admit the girl had some charm to her. Nothing he would be intrigued by, of course, but others may.

 

The lighting stained Linda's pure white dress in an array of colors, each one more beautiful than the last. Nothing would compare to the sight, everyone thought, but then Linda's father lifted her veil, and they were proved quite wrong.

 

Henry wasn't just getting married to a girl. He was getting married to a pretty girl.

 

Joey almost sobbed aloud right then and there.

 

Her short, dirty-blonde hair hung in delicately set waves around her soft, grossly girlish features. A glossy sheen coated her sickeningly full, pink, pursed lips, and a giddy smile played at the corners of her mouth, making her cheekbones more prominent than ever. Her eyes were also blue, but crystal instead of ice, and as wide as the moon. Joey's own large eyes were hot with unshed tears. He retreated back to his delusional fantasy land where there was no judgment and the first thing he saw in the morning was Henry's chiseled, square face, glittering amber eyes, and the ginger-brown thornbush he loved so much.

 

It became even more harder for Joey to block out his pain when Linda practically skipped to Henry's side and stood trembling with a dark red on her tanned cheeks. The rich tone of her skin almost made Joey self-conscious of his own deathly pale complexion. Almost. If he didn't hate her so much, then he would have, but Joey didn't want to give the stupid girl the satisfaction. Neither of them liked each other; Linda, because she didn't appreciate just how much time Henry spent with his best friend instead of her; and Joey because, well, he didn't like how much time she spent with Henry. A conundrum, if you will, yet Joey stubbornly stood by the child-like idea of "I saw him first so he's MINE!" (No matter if he never checked with Henry about his feelings on being likened to a possession.)

 

The hostility in his gut heated to a boiling point as Joey fixated his frosty blue stare upon Linda, who was oblivious to him glaring daggers at her and more concerned with acting like a swaying fool in front of Henry. Joey Drew decided Linda wouldn't not exist in his perfect reality, no, not at all, she would exist alright, and would have to suffer through every single agonized pang he felt at the moment. Maybe not the exact same situation, having to watch the person she loved getting married to someone she despised, but even better: Henry leaving her for him. Now wouldn't that be hilarious! Or, or, wait for it: a female cuckold.

 

Joey had to refrain from hooting and choked, causing Sammy to turn his head sharply toward the wool-haired man. He caught his piercing stare in the corner of his gaze and played it off as an odd sneeze. Luckily, it succeeded, and Sammy curled his lip in disgust and shook his head before looking away, back to the ceremony. At this point, Joey was careful to keep his rampant imagination under control, though his timing was the worst it had been in his life, for it was time for the vows.

 

Joey couldn't exactly recall what the exact words were, but he could recall exactly how he felt: an odd combination of envy, desire, and spite. He wanted to take Linda's place, he wanted Henry to repeat the same pretty things to him, and he wanted to push Linda off a cliff. It didn't seem as if Henry would mind, either; there was no heart behind his promises. The words themselves were poetic and beautiful, and in Henry's smooth voice, they sounded like gospel, but they were as empty as Joey felt. His only saving grace from falling into madness was this emotionless speech, the nugget of hope that Henry was in love with someone other than Linda, in love with Joey.

 

Deep down, Joey knew his baseless delusions were most likely incorrect, but a man could dream, couldn't he? Couldn't he escape into a reality where the only person he ever cared about loved him? Joey put himself in Linda's place, the faintest ghost of a ring on his thin finger, and mouthed an invisible "I do" the moment these very words escaped the girl.

 

Then Henry repeated the same, and his mouth briefly met hers. Joey tried to imagine what his slightly chapped, warm lips would feel like, taste like against his own, but was unable to with the gut-wrenching knowledge he would never once touch them.

 

His heart shattered at the sound of the audience's and Linda's joyful squeals.

 

Outside, the sky was red, red as the blood gushing out of Joey's broken heart. Broken was an understatement. It was mangled, mutilated, desecrated. Joey either saw in double or not at all. His breathing was wrong. It was shallow, ragged, labored, his chest far too tight to take in a proper breath. Joey didn't know if he wanted to breathe anymore. The moments after the completed bonding of Linda and Henry passed by in a blur. Joey vaguely remembered the church shepherding him out, the crowd chattering excitedly for the union of man and wife and the reception afterward. Both literally and figuratively, all Joey could see was red. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to leap on Linda's back and shred her pretty little dress or run sobbing into Henry's strong arms. The thought of Henry holding Joey as if he was the dearest thing in his life made Joey splutter, though the emotion he was drowning in was unclear. Envy? Desire? Longing? A mixture, more like. Now that Henry couldn't possibly be with Joey, these feelings were his only companions; he might as well grow accustomed to them.

 

As he envisioned the depressing life unfolding before him, Henry made his way through the crowd to the melancholy Joey, head bobbing over the sea of congratulations. Too wrapped up in his misery, Joey didn't notice his approach until the last minute when he briefly glanced up to snap at a passerby who shoved past him. Tall as he was, Joey could easily see Henry fighting his way toward him. His stomach lurched at the sight of Henry bathed in the sunset. Then the butterflies were replaced with bricks. His feelings were more damning than ever before now that he was pining for a married man.

 

But in his perfect world, there would be no homophobia.

 

Joey saw Henry's companion only when they arrived before him. Linda, very annoyed with Henry yanking her toward his scruffy, heartbroken friend, glared daggers up at Joey. Her gaze was more disdainful than anything, but Joey returned it with utmost loathing. A few moments ago, he wasn't sure if he wished this feeling upon anyone, but right then he was debating on whether or not he should curse Linda.

 

“Joey,” said Henry and smoothed down the front of his suit before continuing. “Are you coming to the reception?”

 

Joey, wishing he could replace Henry's hands with his own, peeled his stare off Linda, then met his gaze. His usual gold eyes shine like drops of ruby in the bloodied sunset. Joey's breath caught painfully, the sensation of liquid filling his lungs from both agony and desire. Not only was Henry another male, he was  _ married _ . Double forbade, yet Joey's traitorous stomach still did flips.

 

“Yeah,” answered Joey in a hoarse squeak and was immediately embarrassed. He cleared his throat, face flushing, though the dark sunset hid his blush, then repeated in a louder monotone voice, “Yes, I am.”

 

There was a brief, awkward silence in which Linda continued scrutinizing Joey's sagging expression.

 

Henry finally spoke, aware of the tension brewing underneath the situation’s surface, but he was unaware of where it all came from. “If you're sure. It'll be in an hour so. Do you still remember the address?”

 

Stupid, oblivious Henry.

 

Joey really wanted to clap his hands to the sides of his squared face and bring it to his own.

 

“I do,” said Joey, the words sending a fresh agonized wave over him.

 

Henry gave him a searching look, but unlike Linda, it was concerned and gentle. Unable to bear such a caring but only friendly look at himself, Joey turned away, bringing his skinny arms up to his chest. It was the middle of spring, yet he was as cold as if he had plunged into a vat of ice water.

 

“It's in a couple of hours,” Henry informed him without speaking anything he wanted to say, though he put a gentle note into his tone. Forget what Joey told him earlier that day, there was something very wrong with his unusually mellowed best friend. “Do you remember the address of the hotel?”

 

“Uh, yeah,” muttered Joey without unfolding his arms or turning around.

 

Henry brought up his hand as if he meant to stroke Joey's fluffy black hair again but quickly jerked it back to his side. Instead, he threaded his fingers through Linda's and said, “Alright. You can call if anything.”

 

It was the only comforting statement Henry could offer without getting tongue-tied and confused and strangely guilty about around Linda.

 

Joey didn't answer. Another person bumped into him even though the crowd had long since dispersed, but the wool-haired man made no move to pursue and admonish the rude perpetrator as he usually would have done. He remained as still as a statue in the dying sunlight as if the dwindling temperatures had frozen him. Joey, catching Henry holding the observing Linda's hand in his peripheral, was as miserable as ever.

 

It was time for Henry and his newly wedded wife to leave, before things became too awkward or whatever was disturbing Joey exploded in a hot rage. Henry was all too familiar with these outbursts, although none of them had ever been directed at himself.

 

“We'll be leaving, then,” said Henry, squeezing Linda's hand and casting the girl an offhanded glance, his eye color returning to amber when the sun disappeared over the horizon.

 

She returned it with almost comical soppiness. It made Joey sick to see it out of the corner of his ice-blue gaze.

 

“We'll see you at the reception, Drew,” Linda finally spoke up, her voice neutral. Now that Joey was cowed at long last, she no longer deemed him as a threat to her time with Henry, and didn't even look at Joey; her simpering optics were all for Henry.

 

Henry said nothing more, kept his eyes on Linda, and turned to walk away with her into the night. Before he could get too far, however, Joey shoved all his misery and resentment and jealousy away, then called out to the man walking out of his life.

 

“Henry,” he croaked, voice cracking.

 

At the sound of his name, Henry froze, then turned. A chill washed over him when Joey's piercing, icy stare met his unblinkingly.

 

“I'm happy for you.”

 

There was another silence, not awkward so much as cautious. How was Henry supposed to react to that when Joey looked as if he would have rathered cut his tongue out than repeat what he said? Henry studied the man for a few moments. The moon had begun to rise and cast a pale, liquid silver glow over the landscape, and the breath he took in was cool, the taste of spring foliage on his tongue. Joey looked more exhausted than ever in the low light that accentuated the dark circles under his eyes.

 

Henry truly had no idea what to say to such a simple remark. So, he replied nothing but, “Thanks.”

 

Joey made no further comment. Thoroughly confused, with an annoyed Linda at his side, Henry swiftly walked away, leaving Joey in front of the abandoned church. He chanced an observation of the imposing building before him. It stared down disapprovingly, wanting nothing more but to run him and his sin out of God’s homophobic domain. Joey's skinny shoulders slumped, and he peeled his eyes off of the church to fixate them on his feet. A thick strand of his jet-black hair once more fell over his gaze but he didn't brush it away.

 

Everyone else had left already. Only when he could no longer see the couple did Joey move, awakening from his self-inflicting spell. Henry left, but every single awful feeling that had been swamping him all day stayed. Since there was no one to chase off his agony, it stalked behind Joey like a wolf as he slumped over to his car down the street, waiting for the moment he would collapse in his misery to feast upon his carcass, bitter with aching sadness. The man's vision swam on his journey, making it difficult for him to find his vehicle. Joey didn't find it until he bumped into the hood. Then, after groping his way along the side of the car, he swung open the door to the driver's seat and lurched inside.

 

Here it was warmer than outside. Joey had parked in the sunlight, and despite it now being dead, the warmth remained, soaking through his pale skin, though nothing could permeate the cold numbness of his heart. It had bled out all it could, no more passion remained. He couldn't even escape into his perfect little fantasy world. Joey slowly leaned forward and soundlessly rested his forehead on the steering wheel. He brought up a hand push his hair out from his eyes, brushing his hollowed cheek along the way.

 

It was wet.

 

Forgetting his unruly, disheveled hair, Joey touched his fingertips to his cheekbones to confirm their dampness. He pulled his thin fingers away and gazed at the droplets sparkling over them. They glittered, reflecting the cloud of stars scattered across the deep indigo sky out the window.

 

Joey numbly looked up to this source of light in the heavens where God was watching in sharp disapproval, then put his head back down like a scolded dog. He slid further down the steering wheel against his cheek, leaving a streak of liquid behind, and let the tears come in full force.

**Author's Note:**

> Well...
> 
> Did y'all like it?
> 
> Like I said, this is a twoshot, so there'll be one more part after this.
> 
> That is, if you liked it. Did you like it? Tell me if you want me to finish it in the comments, please, and leave a kudos, it really does help and will let me know if you enjoyed it.
> 
> Poor Joey, though... This is before canon events, too, so he isn't that much of a nutter yet, but HENRY
> 
> YOU OBLIVIOUS FUCK
> 
> GETTING MARRIED TO A GIRL YOU DON'T EVEN LIKE BECAUSE SOCIETY OR SOME CRAP WHEN JOEY IS LITERALLY RIGHT BEHIND YOU
> 
> Okay, before I go off on a tangent and start rambling about how much I love this ship, I'm gonna have to step away.
> 
> Tell me if you liked it!
> 
> Peace out, Rainbow Trout
> 
> (And yeah, I made Joey's eyes blue, fight me.)


End file.
